


broken legos and cracking walls

by everythingsace



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), EDIT: i added a little drawing i did, Fanart, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Luke has ADHD, Reggie has dyslexia, also not stated but heavily implied:, and dyscalculia, and they're undiagnosed, anyway the gist is that the others help reggie accept who he is and be happy with himself, but there is, i wouldn't call it ANGST angst, julie is a godsend send tweet, not really explicit but it is there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26721640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingsace/pseuds/everythingsace
Summary: The Legos, those didn’t fit, they were wobbly and they fell over and over, and they were still frustrating. But the music - the music was solid and steady, and at this point, Reggie was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on that and everything else. It wasn’t just him waiting to scramble in making sure things were okay - now, Alex and Luke were there, too. They were standing guard, building him up and making sure that he stayed safe.(Or: Reggie deals with the frustrations of undiagnosed learning disabilities and parents one fight away from a divorce. Luckily, life has much more to offer.)
Relationships: Alex & Julie Molina & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 66
Kudos: 391





	broken legos and cracking walls

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not personally have dyslexia or dyscalculia, like Reggie has in this fic, but I have done a lot of research into the topics. However, that doesn't mean I didn't get things wrong. If you happen to have one of these LDs and I got something wrong, PLEASE let me know! I would hate to misrepresent.

Reggie, like literally every other teenager to exist, hated school. 

The early years weren’t too bad - kindergarten to about second or third grade was okay. At that point, everybody was just sort of friends with everybody. Maybe he didn’t go to anyone’s houses for sleepovers (and there was sure as hell nobody coming to his), but he was invited to play games at recess, people sat next to him at lunch, and he got invited to the other kids’ birthday parties. The actual classes weren’t bad, either, everyone at pretty much the same stage, except maybe a couple gifted kids. So, at the time, he didn’t realize his problem was actually, you know, a _problem._

Things started getting harder as he ascended through grade levels. He loved when his teacher started reading aloud, and he liked hearing his classmates read when it was their turns. When it came to him, though, he found that he couldn’t just… fly through the lines like everyone else. It took him three times as long to read a paragraph than most of the kids in the class. Whenever it was his turn, he found himself hunching over and speaking haltingly, his voice quieter than anyone else’s. His teacher always told him to speak up, and he always felt himself flush with shame. He hated that he could see the other kids getting bored, some even rolling their eyes.

Suddenly, his struggle with reading things and getting things into his head wasn’t universal. It was a _him_ problem, and he couldn’t figure out how to deal with it. He didn’t know how to fix it. 

God, and then there was _math._ Through elementary school, it was at least better. He got numbers better than he got words. Adding, subtracting, easy. Multiplying, dividing - he knew his times tables, he got it. As long as he had those memorized, he usually got it. Long division was tougher, and he didn’t quite get why the order of operations was the way it was, but he could at least sort of figure it out. 

It was like he was surrounded by a pile of Legos, and he needed to build a wall around himself, but not a single one of the Legos actually fit another. All the studs and tubes of them were different sizes, and he had no super glue. He just ended up stacking them in a way that didn’t have them connected - just haphazardly balanced on top of each other, flimsy and bound to fall apart the minute something moved.

Then middle school came, and then high school, and it felt like everything he had built around himself just fell and shattered around his feet. 

Reading was so much worse. No more were the patiently waiting teachers and the reasoning that maybe he was just a slower kid. Now, all his teachers frowned impatiently, and he felt rushed and even more embarrassed, which always made it _worse._ Then they assigned these books to them that were so much more complicated, and now there was symbolism, which he didn’t get because he could barely even decipher the words, much less the imagery behind them.

In math, when algebra came into the equation (no pun intended), he just… couldn’t. He couldn’t grasp it, with all the new variables and the graphing, and the new _quadratic_ formulas, and that long, complicated bullshit. He definitely didn’t get geometry, when there were suddenly angles and arcs. Oh, and trigonometry was a _hell_ no. His teacher had all these tricks, like this weird hand-thing and this soh-cah-toa thing? Forget it. Nothing made any sense. It was like the specific Legos he needed were just missing entirely.

Everyone thought he was stupid.

At first, he kept asking questions. In sixth grade, his teacher was at least patient with him, not that any of his classmates were. At one point, he started just waiting until after class to bombard her with questions, because he was getting so tired of the sighs and the rolling eyes. She tried to explain, and he was at least able to memorize some things, but he never _got_ it. He was able to glue some of the Legos together - it didn’t fix the problem, but at least he was able to do something. Then, in seventh grade, his teacher was so clearly annoyed with him for coming up after class, insisting that he should pay better attention next time (even though he _was)_ , and it felt like all the work he’d been doing to build his Lego walls was wasted as they all toppled over inward.

He stopped asking questions.

By that point, school was no longer the ‘everyone-is-friends!’ environment that he was able to get by in back in elementary. At lunch, he usually just found himself sitting at a table with random people, not really part of any conversation. He was able to pop in sometimes, but usually he just kept to himself. He wasn’t shy, per say, but he also was able to get social cues enough to know when he wasn’t wanted to join in. People just sort of blocked him out a lot of the time. Nobody wanted to be his partner during group projects. A lot of the time he ended up just being kind of… slid into someone else’s unwilling group. He tried to volunteer to do whatever _creative_ things needed done, not that there were many options. Sometimes, he didn’t even get a group. He just tried to scrap something together on his own, not that it ever went particularly well.

He didn’t really have any friends. It’s not that no one _ever_ spoke to him. He didn’t get bullied or anything. He just didn’t have anyone to actually _talk_ to, to get to know and have them get to know him back.

And yet. _Yet._ School was so much better than home.

Home just got worse and worse. Things were tense, yeah, when he was younger - there was a reason he didn’t have anyone at his house. His mom always made terse comments at pretty much anything, and his dad came home late and grumbled whenever he _was_ home. As the years went on, though, they started arguing more. Instead of just biting comments and annoyed sighs, they started snapping at each other until they were full-out arguing. It only got worse from there, as they started yelling whenever they were both home, and it was almost impossible to focus on anything, much less his homework or sleeping.

He tried not to blame himself, he really did. He just couldn’t help but notice that it got worse as he started doing worse in school. Sure, it could be a correlation thing and not a causation thing, but he’d heard them mention it a few times. Blame each other for his shitty grades, his mom saying that his dad didn’t pay enough attention, his dad saying that she was babying him. Then they’d move on to how his dad always came home late, or that his mom didn’t appreciate anything his dad did, and it would just continue all night.

Then, one Christmas, when he was thirteen, he got a portable CD player. He got some Green Day first, and then he started spending all the money he could save on more. Sublime, Rage Against the Machine, the Offspring. He branched out, found that he had a soft spot for country, too. He started listening to music all the time. At first, he just used it to block out the noise of his parents arguing, drowning them out as much as he could. Pretty soon, though, it was rare to find him not listening to music as long as he wasn’t in class.

Eventually, he realized that he constantly had the melodies in his head. He felt like he had an ear for it, and he decided to get a guitar. He begged for one for weeks before he finally realized his parents wouldn’t budge, so he decided he’d get the money himself. He started mowing lawns, walking dogs, doing yard work, anything he could to get a few bucks. A few weeks after turning fourteen, he managed to scrounge enough cash to get a guitar. 

It clicked like nothing else ever had. He _understood_ the melodies, the rhythms, the chords - it felt right. _Finally_ , something felt right. Once he got the guitar down, he decided to splurge on an electric bass and an amp. He’d kept up his odd-jobs - it was another excuse to be out of the house - and soon enough, he was playing and, honestly, he was pretty good.

Soon enough, instead of just listening to punk or rock (or country) at high volumes in his room, he was blasting his own music instead. He played covers at first, of course, playing the bass lines that he first fell in love with from his favorite albums, but he figured out he was pretty okay at drafting his own stuff, too.

His parents didn’t particularly like it, but they didn’t really care enough about anything he did at that point. He wasn’t even sure they noticed he was gone half the time, but at that point, he was able to vent it. Not to anybody else, but through his music at least.

School still sucked, and his Lego walls were unstable, but he at least had his music to keep him company, help him stay motivated to rebuild. He even made some mixtapes and burned a few CDs of his own songs, and that honestly helped him get through the day better than anything.

* * *

It was the beginning of his junior year, and he sat down in the very back of his science classroom. Physics - he was _not_ looking forward to it. 

Despite it being physics, the classroom is still set up like all the other science rooms, single tables, each with a pair of stools. His headphones lopsided on his head, he pulled a notebook out of his backpack, still listening to his last few seconds of “Amos Moses” before he had to put his music away. He closed his eyes and focused on the bass line, his fingers dashing through the chords in the air.

The bell rang, so he reluctantly dumped his player into his backpack as his new teacher started talking. It was the standard welcome, let me tell you about my life history, blah blah blah. Just as Reggie started to zone out, sketching out a chord progression he’d thought of last hour in Spanish, the door right behind him slammed open. He startled, dropping his pencil.

“You’re late,” said the teacher - Mr. Roberts, he thinks? According to his schedule? “But since it’s the first day, you get a pass. Not again, though.”

“Sorry,” is the reply, but the guy doesn’t sound particularly sorry. He walks a few steps ahead of Reggie, and he sees that the guy is white with wavy brown hair, messy and swept around, and he’s wearing ripped jeans and a loose tank with the word “YES” in swervy, bubbly lettering. He looks around for a minute, before clearly realizing that the nearest empty seat was there next to Reggie.

He walked over and slid behind Reggie to sit on the stool next to him, and Mr. Roberts continued, prattling on about what college he’d gone to. (Reggie _super_ didn’t care. He wasn’t even planning on going to college at this point - not that he’d told his parents that.)

“I’m Luke,” whispered the brunet, and Reggie turned to see him looking at him expectantly. “What’s your name?”

“Uh, Reggie,” he mumbled, trying to ignore how nervous he sounded.

Except, Luke didn’t comment on it, instead saying, “Cool, nice to meet you, dude.”

Reggie just nodded in agreement, and the short conversation seemed to be over, so he glanced down at the ground, before sighing. 

He scooted his stool back before leaning down to grab his pencil. He grabbed onto the edge of their table, and as he carefully reached down, he started to regret his methods, worrying about his balance. Still, he managed to snatch the pencil. 

Unfortunately, the movement made his stool slip, and he found his arm with the pencil sort of just windmilling as he tried to catch himself before he fell and embarrassed himself in front of the entire class.

Then, he felt an arm grab onto his and pull him back up, and suddenly Reggie was upright again, his breath caught in his chest and his mouth agape. 

Luke released his arm, quirked an amused eyebrow, and asked, “You okay?” with laughter in his voice. It was warm. (God, shut _up_ , Reggie, you literally have so many other problems to deal with.)

“Yeah, thanks,” Reggie said shakily, before looking around the room. Thank _God_ no one was facing this way - well, except for Mr. Roberts, who gave them a small side-eye, clearly having caught the near-disaster, before moving on with his introduction.

“No problem,” Luke said, grinning. “Couldn’t let you fall to your doom on the first day.”

“Hopefully I won’t ever, but we’ll see,” Reggie joked, rubbing a hand down his face. He could feel how warm it was, and he knew that his already-ruddy cheeks were red as hell. 

Luke just snickered in response, and Reggie very carefully tried to look like he was paying attention to what Mr. Roberts had to say.

Once his ten-minute introduction was over, Mr. Roberts grabbed a stack of papers from his desk. “This is the formula sheet you will be using for the entire year. Do _not_ lose it, or I will have to print more copies, and I’d rather not have to do that. Keep it in a folder, whatever, but you will need it for the rest of the class.” As he talked, he started passing the handouts row by row. When he got to their row, Reggie took the pile and grabbed one for himself before passing the rest down.

He stared at the page, and he could already feel himself getting overwhelmed.

Formulas after formulas, almost entirely made up of variables and Greek letters. As his eyes scanned the page, they just got worse and worse. Any of the variables he knew, like length and width, disappeared, and it was all gibberish. Cursive letters and triangles, and he didn’t know what any of it meant. He could barely even read it, everything jumbling in his head before he could piece together what it was.

Those Legos? They were all over the floor. 

“I have no idea what any of this says,” he whispered, before cringing.

Once he passed the rest of the papers, Luke leaned back over and peered at Reggie’s page, before looking down at his own. He squinted, before biting his lip and sort of chuckling. “God, me neither.”

Reggie’s head whipped towards him, and before he could slow his mouth down, he asked, “Really?” All hopeful.

Luke nodded, scanning through the page. “Yeah. I mean, I know a little bit about velocity and all that, you know, but what, during second semester, the energy section? What does J stand for?”

Reggie looks down at the page, frowning. What J? He looks back at the Energy section, and it takes him a minute to find it. He runs his finger along the lines, silently mouthing each number and letter. He goes through it twice before he finally finds it on the third try.

“Oh,” he said, looking up, about to continue until he saw the curious look on Luke’s face, his eyes cast towards Reggie’s hand. Reggie looked down and saw that his finger was still on the formula, and he felt hot.

Oh. So Luke was _not_ like him, then.

The remnants of his Lego wall trembled.

Luke didn't say anything, though. Instead, he just gave a little shrug. "Yeah, I'll probably just end up copying Alex's homework," he says, looking back at his sheet.

"Alex?" Reggie asked. There were a lot of Alexes in their grade, and he had no idea which one he might be talking about.

"Yeah!" Luke said, grinning. "He's my best friend. Blond hair, blue eyes, kinda tall? Taller than me anyway," he added, a dramatic pout on his lips.

Reggie smiled, shaking his head. "I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Ugh," Luke said, scrunching his face. "Uh, he's our age, he plays drums?" he added, as if Reggie might have somehow known an Alex by their hobby, but not by their appearance.

Reggie's smile just grew wider as he shrugged. "Sorry."

Luke shook his head. "Whatever. He's real smart, so he lets me look at his homework a lot. I'll introduce you sometime."

Reggie's eyebrows rose. "What?" he asked. "We just met, though."

Luke shrugged. "You seem cool, though. You play music, yeah?"

Reggie blinked in surprise. What? "Yeah." He tilted his head. "How'd you know that?" He was pretty sure no one knew that about him besides his parents, and maybe the guy who ran the music shop he went to.

Luke just grinned, pointing at Reggie's notebook, where the abandoned chords are written. “You write music, you’ve gotta play it,” he said.

Reggie felt his cheeks warm, looking down at his page. “Oh, yeah,” he said. Then he turned. “D’you play anything?”

The brunet’s face lit up, and Reggie felt his chest do a funny thing. “Yeah! I play guitar and I sing. Alex and I actually have a band,” he said, leaning forward with a huge grin on his face. “It’s _awesome._ ”

Reggie felt this sort of pang in his stomach, as he wished he had something like that. Someone to actually share his music with, rather than just having it reverberate in his own head for weeks on end. He wanted to be able to do what Green Day could, what Rush could. What any of his favorite artists could. “That’s really cool,” he said excitedly and smiling, though, because it was awesome that this guy got to have that. Just because Reggie’s wall was made of mismatched Legos didn’t mean he was gonna go knocking down someone else’s.

“Yeah!” Luke agreed, grinning, before letting his face fall into a silly little pout. Reggie couldn’t help but think he looked a bit like a puppy. “I mean, it’s not really a full band. It’s just us, so we can’t do as much as we want.”

Without thinking, Reggie said, “Well, I play bass,” and immediately he wanted to take it back, but for some ungodly reason, Luke was already lighting up again.

“For real?” he asked, grinning so wide that his cheeks looked like they were gonna rip. He put a hand on Reggie’s shoulder, jostling it with excitement. “Dude, now I _really_ gotta introduce you to Alex. What music are you into?”

Reggie shrugged. “Rock and punk, mostly.” He kept the country to himself - it was a guilty pleasure, after all.

“Sweet, man!” Luke grinned, and Reggie realized that the guy was bouncing in his seat, his leg bouncing up and down. “Same! Dude, this is gonna be awesome,” he continued, shaking his head with disbelief.

Reggie laughed. “You haven’t heard me play yet. I could be terrible.”

“Nah, I trust you, man!” Luke said, still grinning and whacking him in the arm. “God, this is so cool. Alex is gonna be psyched, too.”

* * *

Alex was a bit more cautious than Luke. 

He seemed excited, but he also didn’t just take Reggie’s (or Luke’s, for that matter) word that he knew what he was doing.

Luke had decided that Reggie needed to join the band Immediately (which honestly, made Reggie feel better than pretty much anything). So, the very next day, after school, Luke met Reggie outside his English class, bouncing and ready to go.

English had gone pretty poorly, as usual, so Reggie was feeling kind of shaky, but something about Luke’s enthusiasm was contagious. Despite his nerves and leftover frustration, he found himself smiling as Luke grabbed his hand and started tugging him down the hallway.

“Okay, so we’re gonna meet Alex in the parking lot at his car. Don’t say anything mean about it - it’s a minivan, and it looks kind of lame, but he’s weirdly defensive about it,” said Luke, glancing back to look at him seriously, which was kind of funny given the way he kind of pouted whenever he tried to be serious.

Reggie just laughed, shaking his head, because it wasn’t like he was in a place to judge. He didn’t have a car; he rode the bus for forty minutes every day.

Once they got outside, Luke made a little “ah” noise and immediately started dragging Reggie towards the front row, and it only took Reggie a second to figure out who Alex was. Like Luke had said, he was tall and blond, his hair parted near the middle. He was wearing a pink hoodie and a denim jacket over it, and Reggie mentally noted that it looked pretty cool. He was leaning against the driver’s door of a gray minivan.

“Alex!” Luke called, and Alex looked over to make eye contact with them, raising a hand to greet them.

“Hey,” he said as they reached him. “So you’re Reggie?” Alex asked, reaching his hand out.

“Yeah,” Reggie replied, shaking the blond’s hand. “Luke said you play the drums?”

Alex nodded, a corner of his mouth quirking. “Yeah, and you play bass?”

Reggie nodded, keeping _and banjo!_ to himself. “Yeah, for a couple years.” He glanced between the two boys and to the car. “So, where are we going? I have to stop by my house to grab my bass, if you guys want to hear me play.” Then, he felt a spike of fear run down his spine as he quickly added, “Uh, not _at_ my house, though. It’s kinda off-limits,” thinking about the inevitable yelling match that would greet them if they entered.

“That’s cool, we usually play at my house,” Alex said, shrugging. “We’re saving up to rent a garage, though,” he added, glancing at Luke.

“Yeah,” Luke added, grinning, before sharing a commiserating look with Reggie. “My parents aren’t a fan of hearing me play in the house either, especially when I’m really rocking.”

Not Reggie’s reasoning, but he latched onto it anyway, nodding quickly.

Alex patted the car then, saying, “Okay, just give me directions to your house and you can run in and grab your stuff, and then we’ll head to mine.”

So, they did that, and when Alex pulled up in front of the path that led down to Reggie’s house on the beach, Reggie quickly hopped out and told them he’d be right back. He hurried down the steps and he didn’t even have to open the door to hear his parents arguing - and oh, this time it was about his last SAT score. A surprise to no one, it was _not_ good. He avoided the kitchen where they were entirely, quickly darting to his room and grabbing his bass and chord, stuffing them in the case before they realized he was home. It was always awkward, as they couldn’t seem to decide whether they should greet him or continue their ‘discussion,’ as they called it.

He ran back out, again sneaking to make sure he wasn’t in view of the kitchen, quickly jogging up the steps so he could get back to the car as soon as possible. When they saw him, Alex stuck his head out the window and told him the trunk was unlocked. Reggie slipped his bass in, and quickly got back in his seat behind Luke.

Luke leaned back, twisted around to face him. “You good, man?” he asked, frowning.

“Yeah,” Reggie said, probably a little too quickly. “So, your place?” he continued, looking at Alex. The blond nodded, putting the car into drive again, and Reggie pretended not to notice him glance at him through the rearview mirror.

Eventually, they got to Alex’s house, and after grabbing his bass case, Reggie followed them in. They passed a staircase where there was a wall of crosses, which seemed a bit much, in Reggie’s opinion, but he tried not to judge. They led him to a room that held nothing but a couch, a small coffee table, and their band equipment, a few amps, a drum set, a couple guitars, and everything else they would need.

“Whoa,” Reggie said, already grinning as he looked across the room. It was so much cooler than his set-up - a single amp, a couple chords, all kind of crammed in one corner of his room. Here, there was an actual space just for music. “This is awesome,” he said quietly, briefly reaching out to touch a Queen poster on the wall. There were posters _everywhere_.

“Thanks,” said Alex, and Reggie turned to see that he’d already gone to sit down at his drums, grabbing the sticks to fiddle with in his hands. “You wanna set up, so we can see what you’ve got?”

Reggie nodded quickly, setting his case down to pull his stuff out. Once he plugged in his bass, he looked up to see Alex waiting patiently, while Luke was sitting on the floor between the couch and the table, his elbows propped up on its surface. “Ready whenever you are, dude,” he said, grinning reassuringly.

Reggie nodded, and he closed his eyes. He took one long breath, in and out, and let himself start a familiar beat with his foot. Once he had it going, he broke into one of his own songs - one of his newer, better ones, since his older ones clearly showed his greenness. He kept his eyes closed, focusing on the song, letting himself pull off the riffs without bracing himself for a reaction. He pretended he was in his room, rocking on his own as he ignored all the other shit in his life.

It was only once he let the final notes temper off that he allowed himself to open his eyes and see what the boys thought.

Alex and Luke shared a look for a moment, while Reggie’s heartbeat fluttered sporadically. Then, Alex smiled, and Luke hopped up from his seat on the floor and bounced over to Reggie (literally bounced, he was jumping up and down the whole time) and clapped him on the shoulder. “Dude, that was awesome!” he exclaimed, grinning so wide his cheeks were all stretched again, the crinkles around his eyes on full display. “Was that yours?” he asked, jostling him a bit.

“Yeah,” Reggie said, smiling at the reception. No one besides his parents had really heard his music before, and they certainly didn’t pay enough attention to actually comment on it, much less recognize that something he was playing was original. He’d never done drugs, but he figured that this must be what being high was like.

“Dude, it rocks!” Luke said, finally bouncing away, still grinning. He turns to Alex, and immediately whips out puppy dog eyes and - boy, Reggie has not known this guy long, but he knows that he probably will not be able to say no to anything he asks for. Especially when he adds the pout.

Alex just laughs and nods, choosing to ignore Luke. “Yeah, man, you’re really good.”

“Wow, thanks,” Reggie said, feeling sort of in shock. He rarely got complimented, and if he did, it wasn’t based on any of his actual skills.

“So, you wanna join us?” Luke asked, and he was back to jumping up and down, and yep, now the puppy eyes were directed at Reggie.

“Uh, you sure?” he asks, before looking at Alex. “Really?”

Alex looked towards the sky, tilting his head like he was considering it, before breaking into a grin. “Hell yeah, man, you can join,” he said, and Reggie felt his entire brain stop for a second.

Meanwhile, Luke started hopping again, doing a happy dance that basically consisted of waving his arms around. 

“Really?” Reggie asked, still feeling kind of numb. He hadn’t felt this good since the day he bought his bass. He looked back at Luke. “Really?”

“Yeah, man!” Luke exclaimed, jumping up and down. “You wanna?”

Reggie just nodded, over and over and over, his mouth ajar. Finally, he managed, “Yeah. Yeah!”

A loud, “ _Woo!”_ erupted from Luke, as he ran forward and grabbed Reggie in a hug, still jumping. “Yes! Yes! Alex, get over here!”

“Oh my God,” said Alex, sounding exasperated, but Reggie watched as he stood anyway, looking fond and walking over, before wrapping his arms around both of them.

Reggie felt like that Lego wall was indestructible.

* * *

About a month passed, and Reggie really began to process the fact that he actually had friends now. It seemed silly, but he felt more at home when he was with his new band mates than he ever did at his house. 

He’d only known them for a month, but he felt like he knew much about them. He knew that Luke and Alex had become friends in elementary school, and they’d been pretty much attached at the hip ever since. Luke started with guitar lessons when he was eleven, because his parents wanted him to branch out and do something, and he’d immediately fallen in love with it, quickly dragging Alex into the world of music, who of course immediately became entranced by it, too. Then Alex got his drum set, and they’d been playing together ever since.

He knew that Luke argued with his parents a lot about his music. He also knew that Luke had a bottomless stomach, that he hated their school’s pep assemblies, and his favorite color was orange, despite the fact that _no one’s_ favorite color was orange _._ He knew that he briefly had a period when he was thirteen where he tried to skateboard, but it ended very quickly with a broken arm. He knew that he wanted to play in stadiums one day.

He knew that Alex had a pretty good relationship with his parents, but he still sometimes got quiet when he talked about them. He knew that Alex was an anxious guy and tried to finish his homework as quickly as possible once it was assigned. He knew that he sort of dug pop, that he had a soft spot for Celine Dion. He knew that he could _not_ handle spicy food, and that he actually sort of liked math. He knew that Alex could find a beat in anything, and that he more often than not was tapping along to some sort of rhythm.

They were _awesome,_ and Reggie felt like he was on top of the world.

He’d come to realize that it wasn’t that his Lego wall was invulnerable. It still crumbled when he was having a hard time in class, it still trembled when he could hear his parents in the other room. But now he had more than just his Legos. Now, he had his music and his friends, surrounding him and keeping him safe. His value didn’t rest solely on how he was doing in classes anymore; now he had friends that _liked_ him and he had music that meant something, even if it was just for two other people.

One day, Reggie was reclined on the couch, just plucking along to no decided song, just fiddling around while Alex tried to finish his English homework (they had just begun to read Gatsby, and Reggie was definitely putting that off) and Luke was scribbling in his songbook. 

Just as Reggie was figuring out a solid rhythm, he heard a flutter and looked up to see Luke’s songbook land on the coffee table, partly on top of Alex’s notes.

“Dude,” Alex complained, looking up and shaking his head at Luke, who just smiled innocently.

“Tell me what you guys think of those lyrics,” he said. 

Alex huffed but slid the songbook over, opening to the dog-eared page. Reggie set his bass aside and sat up, leaning over to look at the page.

Immediately, he frowned. He couldn’t figure out what on _Earth_ it said. He tried to piece the letters together, then the words, but it proved very difficult. He tried to pretend that he was just reading through it, and not struggling to get through just the first verse. The Legos would _not_ fit, and he had no glue to work with.

Then, suddenly, Alex said, “Luke, I can not read this for the life of me. _Please_ write clearer, your handwriting just keeps getting worse.”

Reggie felt a surge of relief, ignoring the way Luke sputtered and acted offended. “Oh, thank God. I thought the Legos were just more messed up.” Less worried, he leaned forward again and tried squinting to decipher his friend’s writing.

“What?” Luke asked, finally crossing the room to sit on the floor on the other side of the table.

Reggie froze.

He’d tried to hide it. They weren’t too far in physics yet, and he had a basic understanding of mass and velocity and all that from previous math classes, so he hadn’t really had too many problems yet. As for his other classes, he just tried to avoid talking about the schoolwork, instead directing their conversations towards his teachers or his classmates.

Luke and Alex were so cool, and he loved playing music with them. They always were able to build off each other, and it was like nothing Reggie had ever gotten to experience. On top of that, he finally had an excuse to avoid his house. He’d had these guys in his life for just a month, and the thought of losing them was terrifying. 

If he lost them, he’d just be stuck with his Legos again.

He looked between the two as they both watched him with confusion.

“What does that mean?” Alex asked, squinting.

Meanwhile, Luke was watching him carefully, a look of concern on his face. “You good, Reg?” he asked, his eyebrows furrowing.

“Uh, yeah,” Reggie said, before blinking hard. “Sorry, I don’t know. Um.” He shook his head. “So, the song?” he tried.

They both hesitated. Luke broke first - he clearly wanted to know what the hell Reggie meant, and Reggie didn’t blame him, but he graciously gave him the out. “Right. So, the main idea is that...”

He continued on, and after a moment of watching Reggie, Alex finally turned to listen to Luke’s explanation. 

The bassist let himself breathe.

* * *

Over the next month, they managed to pick up another bandmate. His name was Bobby, and he and Alex crossed paths when the drummer was walking around Hollywood. It turned out that he was a sick guitarist, and he played really well with them, so their band roster went from three to four.

They _also_ figured out that, with their new member, if they all pitched in, they could afford to rent the garage.

Reggie stared at the doors in front of them, feeling stuck. This couldn’t be real. Right? It couldn’t.

Beside him, Luke was bouncing on his toes. “You ready to see it, guys?” he asked, not breaking eye contact with the doors.

Reggie and the other two nodded.

Luke nodded. “Awesome,” he said, then took a step forward, but Reggie quickly threw his arm in front of him, shoving him back and racing for the door himself. 

Luke let out a, “Hey!” and tried to pull him back, but Reggie batted him away and grabbed at the door, laughing and kicking backwards as Luke tried to grab his shirt. He ripped away and managed to pull the door open, and when he did, he froze in the doorway, staring at the space.

“Bro, move!” Luke whined, and Reggie stumbled forward as he was shoved from behind, and soon the rest of the boys joined him. 

It was _huge,_ way bigger than he expected, and he was already imagining a couch on one side, a table next to it, he could see Alex’s drums in one spot, the amps over there - there was a loft, he could - oh, he could keep a stash of pillows and blankets up there if he wanted to spend the night at some point. There were so many windows, and the daylight was still shining in, and -

“This! Is! _Amazing!”_ Luke yelled, dropping to the ground in a starfish. “We have a _studio!”_ He started kicking his feet up in the air, and Reggie started giggling, unable to believe this was happening. 

“Now we just need a band name,” Alex teased, from his spot in the corner where he’d been looking up at the loft.

Luke sat up abruptly, scowling. “Don’t ruin a good moment, Alex.”

Bobby chuckled. “Haven’t you guys had this band for a couple years?” he asked.

“It was only me and Alex up until a couple months ago!” Luke argued. “We were just gonna be called Luke and Alex!”

“That’s not a very good name,” Reggie pointed out, and Luke gave him a betrayed pout.

“We were never going to be called that,” Alex said. “ _Maybe_ Alex and Luke, but…” he trailed off, and Reggie laughed.

“Maybe we can brainstorm after we bring in our stuff?” Bobby suggested, and, once everyone murmured their agreement, they started unloading.

Once they finally had their last amp in place, the four of them all sat on the floor or the steps, glaring at the blank pieces of paper in front of them. 

“The…” Alex mumbled, ending high-pitched as he tried to think of another word.

“Monsters,” Luke said.

Everyone else wrinkled their noses and replied with a chorus of ‘no’s.’

“Ocean Breeze,” said Bobby.

“Angry Toddlers.”

“Whisper… Cats.”

“Skylight.”

“Ghost Lightning.”

“Poppy Seeds.”

“Ramen Noodles.”

“Floorboards.”

“L.A. Days.”

“Golden Boys.”

“Cardboard People.”

“Microphone.”

“Punching… Dicks.”

“No!”

“Salt Rockers.”

“Sleepy… Pizza?”

“Drumsticks.”

“Reggie, are you just listing random things in the room?” Alex asked, and Reggie tilted his head from where he was now lying on the dusty wooden floor.

“No?” he tried.

“This isn’t working!” Luke whined, leaning back to slump against the stairs.

“Okay, how about we each try writing for like, a couple minutes, and then we share and see what we’ve come up with?” said Alex, climbing to his feet to grab his backpack by the door. 

“Might as well,” Bobby said, staring up at the ceiling while resting his head against the wall. “This method clearly is not the way to go.”

Alex ripped several pages out of a notebook and grabbed a handful of pencils from his backpack, handing one of each to the rest of the boys.

“Why do you have so many pencils?” Reggie asked, taking his page.

“In case I lose them?” Alex said, raising his eyebrows. “I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who actually comes prepared to class.”

“I come prepared,” Luke objected defensively.

“Dude, you left your backpack at your house the other day.”

Luke frowned before grumbling, “That was _once.”_

“Okay, on the count of three, our… let’s say five minutes start?” Bobby interjected, raising his eyebrows in question. 

“Do we have a timer?” Reggie asked.

“We’ll just guess,” Luke said. “Go!”

Reggie stared at his paper.

And he stared some more.

_The Jedi._

He scratched that one out immediately.

_The Death Stars._

He scratched that one out, too. They couldn’t do Star Wars.

_The Rolling Clones._

No Star Wars!

At that point, he started just writing random things he saw again. _supportbeams. glass panes. riqqed jeans. the outlets. the garage doors._ Well, _The Doors_ already existed, but whatever. _the wood grains._ _staircase. vent._

He huffed, hoping the five minutes had passed, but when he looked up, all the others were still writing intently. He bit his lip, looking towards the windows again. By this point, the sun was starting to set, and pink light was starting to shine through and reflect across the room, reflecting off the floor and even Alex’s drums, making cool arcs of light on part of the wall.

He tried writing again.

_the relfections. reflection. sunlight. sunlihgt arc. sunlight curve. sunset curve. sunset arc._

“Done!” Luke called.

“That was not five minutes,” Bobby said.

“Well, I couldn’t think of any more,” Luke argued, before pushing himself down the last few steps. “Now, let’s see what we’ve got!” he exclaimed, scooting himself over to the center space between them all.

While Alex and Bobby sighed, Reggie tucked his paper to the chest and just rolled over in Luke’s direction. Once he actually rolled into him, he stuck his paper out and put it next to Luke’s. He didn’t bother trying to read Luke’s handwriting, because he knew that anything in Luke’s handwriting basically wasn’t even a Lego.

Alex and Bobby placed their lists next to theirs, sitting down across from them, leaning so they could read what everyone wrote.

Reggie leaned across, trying to crane his neck so he could at least try to read the closest paper, which was Alex’s. A lot had to do with California or L.A. or Hollywood, he was pretty sure.

“Dude, Reggie, what the hell is up with your spelling?” Bobby asked absently, chuckling.

Reggie stopped breathing. He felt like not just his Legos had fallen, but the entire room was threatening to crack.

“And your handwriting, Luke! Wow,” Bobby continued, laughing.

“Har-har,” Luke said sarcastically, leaning forward. His gaze stayed focused on Bobby as they continued bickering, but Reggie felt Luke hand touch the side of his arm, which was still mostly pressed between his chest and the floor. The touch was grounding, and it helped his heartbeat slow down.

Reggie swallowed and, gradually, the room seemed to settle.

When he tuned back in, Alex was saying, “Listen, I think my Plasma Killers could work.”

“What? No,” Luke laughed. “Nothing with ‘kill’ - we rock, but we aren’t metal.”

“Killers doesn’t have to be metal!”

“Dude, it just doesn’t work.”

Reggie just shook his head, leaning down and settling his chin on the floor, choosing to let his friends’ voices wash over him instead of actually trying to help make a decision. Whatever they came up with, he was pretty sure he’d be up for it.

His attention split back when he heard Luke mutter, “Sunset Curve.” Then, in case he hadn’t already been paying attention, Luke swatted his shoulder. “Reg, I like it!”

Reggie lifted his head, first to look at Alex and then the page of paper in his hands. Bobby and Alex leaned over to read it as well.

When Alex leaned back, he was tilting his head. “You know, I kind of like it, too.”

“Yeah?” Reggie asked, looking between them, then at Bobby, who was nodding with a small grin.

“I think so, man.”

After a moment’s pause, Alex said, “So… are we in agreement? Everyone who’s for ‘Sunset Curve,’ say ‘aye’?”

“Aye!” the boys chorused, and Reggie grinned, his world was steady again.

* * *

Reggie was feeling pretty shaky.

His parents had been arguing even more, which he wouldn’t have thought possible if he hadn’t known better. He was sitting in the living room, his knees bouncing as he ran his fingers through his hair, while his parents carried on in the dining room. Well, at least they weren’t throwing things.

Thanksgiving had been a couple days ago, and as it usually got around the holidays, the house had been tense all week. Well, _tenser._ Was that a word? Reggie wasn’t sure. Point was, his parents didn’t get along at the best of times, and now, right after his last relative had left, the bubble of fake politeness and we’re-a-happy-family finally popped, and now, everything was bursting.

At that moment, his mom was yelling about how his dad had joked at some point over the visit that she got jealous, and now she was bringing up all her theories about how he had cheated on her a few weeks ago.

Ironic, Reggie thought, considering he was pretty sure that she’d been doing the exact same thing for months.

The volume of their voices rose, and Reggie sighed, moving his hands from his hair to drag down his face. _Just shut_ up, _please,_ he thought, trying to focus on the sound of the rain outside, pattering against the windows. 

Except, then he realized, when he lowered his hands, that he caught a glance through the blurry window of someone standing outside their front door.

He frowned, climbing to his feet, figuring that maybe his aunt had left something, but when he stepped closer to the window, he recognized the jean jacket and realized it was _Alex._

His eyebrows furrowed. The boys _never_ came to Reggie’s house. Reggie never really explained why they couldn’t, but they never questioned it. Rushing forward, he ran to the door, pulling it open. His heart fell out of his chest when he saw Alex’s face.

The blond was rocking back and forth on his feet, his hand clenched in a fist as if debating whether to knock. His hair was dripping, flat against his head, and his eyes were red and puffy. 

He looked up, startled, jerking back when Reggie opened the door. “Reg-”

“Dude, what happened?” Reggie asked, rushing forward and throwing his arms around Alex to pull him into a quick hug, before pulling back to look at his face.

At that, Alex’s face crumpled, and he shook his head, grabbing Reggie and pulling him back into the hug. “I - I told them. I told them, and they don’t want to see me again, they’re so mad, they-”

“Whoa, slow down,” Reggie said, rubbing Alex’s back in a way that he knew was comforting. “Told who what? What happened?”

Alex’s hands clutched Reggie’s shirt as he burrowed his head in his shoulder. “I told my parents that - that I’m gay,” he said, trailing into a whisper with his last words.

Reggie froze for less than half a second, before melting again and gripping his friend even tighter. “Oh, Alex,” he said. “I’m so sorry.” He pulled away for just a second, making sure to make eye contact with him. “You know that isn’t bad. It doesn’t change how much we love you.”

Alex sniffled, nodded, before crumbling again and falling back onto Reggie’s shoulder. “I love you, too. I’m sorry, I know - I know you have a thing about your house, but you were the closest, and I just ran, and it was raining, and I-”

“Hey, it’s okay,” Reggie said, shaking his head. “You’re good, man. You’re good.”

They stood there for a few quiet minutes, with Alex sniffling while Reggie rubbed circles on his back. Reggie couldn’t help but be in awe of what was happening. Alex’s parents always seemed so nice, and their family always seemed so close, and he just couldn’t understand how they could choose to hurt their son for something so small.

How did they all get stuck with such shitty situations?

Once Alex wasn’t shaking so much, Reggie carefully pulled away. “Do you wanna go to the garage?” he asked.

Alex ran his nose along his sleeve, nodding.

“Okay, I’m gonna grab an umbrella real quick,” Reggie told him, and once Alex nodded, he slipped back into his house to grab an umbrella from the closet. Once he found one, he ran back to the front door, pulling the door open wider.

Only, as he did, a crash sounded from the direction of the dining room, along with his mom screaming something at his dad.

Reggie bit his lip, glancing at Alex.

Alex frowned and sniffed, his arms wrapped around himself. “Is everything okay in there?” he asked, his voice stuffed and congested, as he furrowed his brow.

The bassist nodded, swallowing. “Yeah.” He shook his head. “Yeah, it’s fine,” he sighed, stepping out and closing the door behind them. “They’re just fighting again.”

As he shot the umbrella open, he felt Alex’s hand touch his arm. “Do they do that… a lot?” he asked, frowning.

Reggie looked up at him, smiling sadly. “Yeah. Pretty much - all the time, really.” He lifted the umbrella over their heads, jerking his to the side. “C’mon, let’s go.”

After a moment of hesitation, Alex walked with him. “Is that why your house is always off-limits?” he asked.

Reggie nodded, “Yeah. Didn’t want you guys to have to deal with that. Sorry.”

Alex snorted. “Nah, I get it.” After a second, he chuckled, shaking his head. “We really lucked out in the home department, huh?” he said, leaning against Reggie.

Reggie giggled, pushing back against him. “We sure did.”

Despite everything, he felt like his world was pretty solid.

* * *

Reggie was trying to stack the Legos so carefully. He wasn’t breathing, he was staying _so_ still, and his hand moved as slowly as possible, his hand outstretched ready to hold things steady.

Reggie, Alex, and Luke were all in the garage. The only one missing was Bobby, but he rarely hung out at the garage outside of practice or writing sessions - unlike the rest of them, he actually enjoyed being at his house. Alex had been staying at the garage ever since his parents kicked him out - he’d managed to go back and grab some clothes, his school stuff, and his car, but that was pretty much it. Reggie was staying over more and more, as his parents weren’t getting any better. Luke had started staying over a lot, too - his relationship with _his_ parents was getting pretty strained, too. They kept pushing him about college, and it was hard for him to have a decent conversation with them anymore. So, the three of them spent a majority of their time together, in what was quickly becoming their home.

At the moment, they were studying. It was finals season, and Reggie was not having a good time. Math and physics were bad enough, but English was what was really giving him a hard time. He was just focusing on the vocabulary portion of the class at the moment, trying to figure out how on Earth he was going to remember any of this. How was he going to remember what any of these words meant when he could barely figure out what the words were themselves?

His Legos were _not_ sticking together, and he couldn’t get them to just lie on top of each other either. Everything kept wobbling. He’d manage to stack two Legos, and then when he tried to add the third or the fourth, it would fall back over. At this point, he kind of just felt like slamming the Legos together like a two-year-old plays with wooden blocks, because maybe the kid knew what they were doing. Maybe, by some miracle, they’d stick.

“Reg, you good? You’re mumbling,” Luke said, tapping his arm with the back of his hand. 

Reggie bit his lip, stiffening, his Legos tumbling. “Yeah, man. Just… reading out loud,” he said, tucking his hands under his legs so he wouldn’t end up tracing too.

Luke shrugged, turning back to his physics study guide, which was basically just a bunch of example questions. They would get to have the formula sheet during the test, which Reggie was very grateful for - it would take him a long time, but he was pretty sure he’d eventually be able to glue those Legos together. It wouldn’t be easy, but he would manage.

He looked back at his vocabulary sheet, which he had much less confidence in, and tried to go back to figuring out the definition of ‘pugnacious.’ 

Except then, without looking up from his work, Luke reached over and tugged Reggie’s wrist from under him, lifted it, and dropped it on top of the table.

Reggie looked at him, speechless, his mouth hanging open like a fish.

Luke barely even spared a glance at him. “What? It helps you.”

Reggie kept staring. “You--” he tried, but then nothing else came out. 

At this point, Alex tore his gaze away from his notecards. “What is happening?” he asked, his gaze flicking between the two of them.

“You know about that?” Reggie asked, entirely ignoring Alex at this point. “Since when?” He thought he’d kept it under wraps! They’d at least never mentioned it, so he figured he’d somehow managed to scrape by without them noticing.

Luke’s eyebrows furrowed as he shrugged. “I dunno - you’ve always done it? I don’t know how it helps, but I figure there’s no point in, like, avoiding it, you know?”

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Alex asked, gesturing with both his hands. A notecard fell on the floor. “Did I miss something?”

“My word tracking,” Reggie said quietly.

“Ohhh,” Alex said. So he’d known, too. Huh.

At this point, Reggie’s little room of value, of _worth,_ had changed a lot. The Legos, those didn’t fit, they were wobbly, they fell - they were still there, and it was still frustrating. They still drove him nuts sometimes. But the music - the music was solid and steady, and at this point, Reggie was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on that and everything else. It wasn’t just him waiting to scramble in making sure things were okay - now, Alex and Luke were there, too. They were standing guard, building him up and making sure that he stayed safe. They were stable.

“It helps with the Legos,” he said, staring at the table in front of him.

Clearly recognizing this was… _new_ territory, Alex didn’t tease at the non sequitur, instead saying slowly and cautiously, “I’m not sure I get the whole Legos thing.”

“Letters. And words, and numbers, and just… all the math,” Reggie said, and he was watching the room. “They’re all Legos, right, but none of them are made for each other. I try to fit them together,” he explained, miming, “And it just. Doesn’t work.” He dropped his hands. “I have to like… Just put them on top of each other, and hope they don’t fall apart, and see if I can make something.”

He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged. “Tracking the words… it helps me keep them balanced, I guess.”

Once it was quiet for a couple minutes, he looked up to gauge their reactions.

Alex’s head was tilted, and he was staring into space, clearly processing. Luke, however, just looked right at Reggie and nodded. “Oh, okay. Do you have any other tricks that help?”

Reggie blinked, before frowning. “Uh. Not really. I mean, now the Legos aren’t everything. I have music. And you guys! So, you know, my Legos fall, and the stuff I _do_ build, it’s… shaky, but.” He shrugged. “I don’t know, I can handle it. It’s hard, and it gets really frustrating, but, now that I have the other stuff, you guys, the music, Bobby, I’m okay. I have more than just the Legos.”

Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Wait. You guys… you don’t think I’m stupid?”

“No!” they both said immediately. 

Alex tossed his stuff aside and scooted over to the table, before placing his hand on Reggie’s shoulder. “Dude, you’re dumb sometimes, like when you thought it was a good idea to eat a Reese’s cup even though you’re allergic to peanuts.” Ignoring Reggie’s muttered, “All that happened was hives,” he continued, “But not this. Just because you struggle with something doesn’t mean you’re stupid.”

“Yeah, man,” Luke said. “It’s like how moving around makes me think easier. I’m not dumb, either; I just gotta do things different.”

“Right,” Alex said. “Luke’s dumb sometimes, too, like when he spent an hour at the animal shelter even though he’s allergic to cats, but not because he has a hard time staying focused on stuff.”

“I don’t care if I’m allergic! I need to give them love!” Luke argued, his voice cracking as he stabbed a finger towards the drummer, and Reggie couldn’t help but laugh.

Alex ignored Luke, instead continuing to look at Reggie. “You got that, man?”

Reggie smiled. In that moment, the Legos didn’t matter at all. He had his friends, standing guard, and he was okay.

“Yeah,” he said, looking between them. “Yeah, I got it.”

* * *

It was kind of weird. When they floated out of the ambulance, Reggie thought he would be saying goodbye to his Legos and his music and his friends. Now, though, despite everything, his world was still there.

* * *

A couple weeks into their new afterlife, Julie came into the garage ranting about school.

The boys were all bored out of their minds. Alex had a deck of cards in front of him, practicing his ability to pick things up by attempting to play a game of solitaire. It was a very slow process, and Reggie personally wasn’t a fan of solitaire anyway, but Alex didn’t seem too frustrated by it, especially now that he had a distraction. Luke was trying to spin a penny he’d found on the floor, but it kept rolling away from him. Reggie was messing with Alex’s drumsticks, trying to balance one on the bridge of his nose. So, they were happy to listen as Julie came stomping in.

“She wants us to read _forty_ pages this weekend! As if we don’t have other classes! If she thinks I’m going to annotate this stupid book, she has another thing coming! I’m going to _skim_ at best, and honestly, I probably won’t even do that! I’m SparkNoting this, not…”

She continued, but Reggie’s brain came to a screeching halt. 

Somehow, they’d gone two weeks without the bassist thinking about reading. Luke talked about their songs, and Julie talked about school, and he listened, but he hadn’t stopped to actually think about _himself_ reading. He certainly hadn’t thought about spelling anything out, and he _definitely_ hadn’t tried to do any math.

He was a ghost. He’d _died._ Did his brain even technically exist? And if it did, did its issues stick with it?

Without thinking, he threw himself off the couch, Alex’s drumsticks clattering onto the floor. He started moving things around the coffee table, picking up one of Luke’s flannels and an empty take-out box and shoving them over. When there was only one of Julie’s sketchbooks under the flannel, he threw it back down before looking around the room for something else. Where was Luke’s songbook? 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Alex asked, and Reggie looked up to see his friends all looking at him, but honestly, his mind was kind of racing too fast for him to really process their confusion.

“I need - a book, or writing, or something -” he said, pushing a hand back through his hair, before finally spotting Luke’s songbook on the piano.

He ran across the room, hopping over Luke on the floor, ignoring his indignant squawk. He grabbed the book, flipping it open and trying to flick to a page where his friend’s handwriting was less messy and there was less junk scribbled out.

“What is going on?” Julie asked, her voice somewhat alarmed.

“Reg? Man?”

Reggie looked up at Luke, who was now standing and walking towards him. He had a hand outstretched, and soon, it settled on his shoulder. “What’s going on, dude?”

“We’re dead, right?” Reggie said, a hopeful grin lighting his face. “So our brains don’t really exist, right? So, what _if,_ since they don’t _really_ exist, they can’t mess things up like they usually do? What if the Legos fit now?”

Understanding dawned on Luke’s face, and looking past him, he could see it did for Alex, too. Only, much to his disappointment, instead of getting excited, their faces resembled something more like grimaces.

Alex set his cards aside, climbing to his feet. “Reg, I don’t really think that’s how it works,” he said apologetically.

Reggie shook his head. “But it’s worth a shot, right?”

Alex and Luke looked at each other, sharing a look that Reggie couldn’t figure out, before Alex sighed. “Fine,” he said reluctantly. “But you might as well try to read something that actually resembles words.”

“What is happening? Someone, tell me what is going on. What Legos?” Julie asked, as Alex walked over to a CD rack that was shoved into a corner.

“Seeing if my brain is fixed,” Reggie said brightly, making grabby hands as Alex pulled a CD case from the rack.

“Reg, it’s not broken,” Luke argued. “You know that.”

“But it doesn’t _work_ either.”

“It does too! It just works different!”

As soon as Alex was near, Reggie plucked the case from his hands. Pulling it open, he took out the case insert and scanned it to read the tracklist.

It was silent for a moment, as the Legos refused to click. They just slipped out of place, or they wouldn’t go in together at all. Reggie tried squeezing his eyes shut and trying again, but they stayed mismatched. If he stared long enough, he could stack them, figure out the words, but it wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted them to _click._

“Reg,” Luke tried, his voice soft.

Reggie blinked a few times, visibly deflating. “They don’t click,” he muttered.

Luke’s hand fell to his bicep, squeezing gently. “I know, buddy.”

Reggie swallowed, backing up so he could sit down on the piano bench. Luke and Alex both squeezed in so that they sat on either side of him. “I thought it would work,” he said, staring past the booklet and at the floorboards.

“It doesn’t need to work, though,” Alex said. “I know it’s harder, but you can still do it. Like Luke said, it’s just different.”

“It’s annoying, though,” Reggie complained, but he straightened up, pulling his shoulders back. They _were_ right. He _knew_ they were right; it was just hard to deal with sometimes.

“We know,” Luke said, bumping him with his shoulder. “But hey, on the bright side, you don’t ever have to read a book for class again.”

A laugh burst out from Reggie’s chest, and he nodded. “That’s true,” he said, grinning.

Suddenly, there was a screech as Julie dragged a chair over so she sat across from them. She then very dramatically plopped herself down and crossed her arms. “What on _Earth_ are you guys talking about? You can’t just talk in code.”

Reggie couldn’t help but chuckle at the look of annoyed confusion on her face. He shook his head. “It’s not code. I was just hoping that being a ghost would fix this… _thing_ ,” he said, purposely making sure he didn’t say _problem,_ and he waved a hand around his head. “With my brain.”

Julie frowned, uncrossing her arms and tilting her head. “What do you mean?”

Reggie shrugged, before trying to explain it to her like he had with the other two. He told her about the Legos, and how he couldn’t make them stick together, instead having to be patient and careful, putting them next to and top of one another without fully making the connection. How that made the final product shaky, but he could get it done.

“It’s just messy, and it makes it hard to read sometimes, and do math. I can write okay, but I misspell a lot,” he finished. It was kind of weird - he worked so hard to hide it for so long, but having his boys by his side and knowing Julie was such an accepting person made it a lot easier to just… let it out in the open.

Julie squinted, tilting her head. “So, you mean… like dyslexia?”

Reggie stared at her.

She stared at him, waiting.

Reggie broke first. “What?”

Julie stood up, walking across the room to her backpack before pulling out her laptop. “Dyslexia,” she said, before walking back over and pulling it open. “It’s a learning disability, it sounds like what you’re talking about.” As she typed in her password, she looked up at Reggie, shrugging. “Lots of people have it.”

Reggie stared at her, his mouth agape.

After a second of typing, Julie mumbled a “Aha!” before straightening and reciting, “‘Dyslexia is a learning disorder that affects your ability to read, spell, write, and speak. Kids who have it are often smart and hardworking, but they have trouble connecting the letters they see to the sounds those letters make.’ It says that it’s pretty common, but it goes undiagnosed a lot.” She tilted her head. “I think there’s one related to math, too…” After typing for a moment, she nodded. “Yep! It’s called ‘dyscalculia.’”

When she looked up, Reggie was sort of just… staring into space, his jaw still hanging open.

There were words for it? And other people had it?

“Reg?” Luke asked, his voice soft, and Reggie turned to see his eyebrows knit together. “You okay?”

Reggie was _more_ than okay, but he was also _definitely_ crying. He nodded quickly, like a bobblehead. “Y-yeah. I just - I’m not the only one?” His voice cracked with his question, and he wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

Julie made a soft noise, putting her laptop on the floor as she stood. As Luke and Alex each put an arm around him, she wrapped both of hers around his neck, squeezing him tightly, which didn’t super help with the crying thing. “No, you’re not. It’s a totally normal thing, and tons of people have to deal with it. I’m sorry you never got any answers before,” she said over his shoulder. 

He basked in the others’ hug for a few more minutes, before finally sniffling (or snorting, really) and gently pulling back. He wiped his wet nose on his arm. “I’m just glad I know now,” he admitted, before mumbling again, “It has a _name._ ”

“Yeah,” Julie said with a watery laugh, pulling back so she could sit across from them again. “It’s got a name, and there’s lots of stuff people do now to help with it. They can’t cure it or anything, but there’s a lot of research and stuff that people have done to help people deal with it.” 

Reggie nodded. “I might wanna steal your computer one of these days,” he told her. It would be difficult to read the stuff, but if it might help him get it, and _understand_ it, it would be worth the Legos tumbling.

“That’s totally good with me,” Julie said, smiling. Then, after a moment, the smile turned into a smirk. “You know, I think this revelation calls for a celebration,” she said, raising her eyebrows.

“Ooh,” Luke said, smiling, leaning in with his arm still over Reggie’s shoulders. “Like what?”

“I think,” and she raised her eyebrows at Reggie. “That we should finally start working with one of Reggie’s songs.”

Reggie broke out into an excited grin, a gasp escaping. “Really?” He turned to Alex, and then Luke. Both of them were shaking their heads, but they were also smiling. 

“Sure,” Luke said, and his smile was so wide his eyes were squinting. “We’ll do a country song.”

Alex tried to give a show of, “Ugh, _fine,”_ but his lips were curling up at the edges. He pointed a finger at Reggie. “ _One._ And it can’t be _Home is Where My Horse Is.”_

“Well, now it has to be that one,” Reggie argued, and he fell into the bickering about his country music with ease, a content smile on his face. 

He finally had a name for his Legos, and he honestly felt better and safer than he ever had before.

Edit: Here's a drawing I did of Reggie and his Legos while I was working on this fic! 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed!!! JATP luckily pulled me out of a long dry spell of writing - I just love all the characters so much. Like I said, if you notice any mistakes, please let me know!
> 
> My tumblr is gaystreetsmarts. Please leave kudos + comments!! <3


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